


A Mutual Conquest

by ADevilsHunger (Dream_tempo)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Armpit Kink, Blow Jobs, Body Hair, Body Worship, Casual Sex, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Dirty Sex, Exhibitionism, Felching, Foot Fetish, Foreskin Play, Gross Intimacy, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Man stink, Manhandling, Milking, Rimming, Scent Kink, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, Wet & Messy, mentions of watersports, musk, sweat kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_tempo/pseuds/ADevilsHunger
Summary: Derek and Stiles are fuckbuddies on the edge of being something more, spurring each other on to kinkier heights by sharing details of their other conquests. Jackson is the latest target-- repressed and needy. Making a mess of him might just bring some stuff to the surface for all three. Mostly a PWP with the occasional batch of feels.





	A Mutual Conquest

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the tumblr prompt, "Okay, so feel free to do whatever you want to with this prompt- cuz when you do it anyways comes out incredible- but I love the way you write DerekxJackson, BUT, could you maybe do something along the lines of Stiles being Dereks go too raunchy FWB so when Jackson shows interest, Derek brings in Stiles to teach Jackson just how he likes his body worshipped. Extra points if your foot slut Jackson pays extra attention to those big hairy feet

He’s been looking for weeks. A boy as striking as he is should know he always draws attention anyway, but to add on his slutty shamelessness has made it pretty much obscene. Derek does what he can for the guy, putting on a bit of a show to make all the watching worth his while. He wears skimpy, too tight clothes to the lecture they share, lets his shirt ride up, his shorts down, bends over a lot and readjusts himself in plain view. 

The guy hasn’t approached him yet, or even said hello, which just makes it all the sweeter. He’s probably closeted, or hasn’t wanted another guy like this before now. He’s probably trying to tell himself he’s just admiring Derek’s physique-- one of those gym bros that secretly gets off to him in the showers while asking how many reps he does in public. 

Derek’s met a hundred of them, fucked most of them, sat on a lot of their faces. He thinks this guy would be into that. He’s not very tall, has a slimmer sort of muscle than actual bulk, chiseled face, just hours of too much upkeep into his clothes and hair and cologne. A lot of guys that particular about themselves only do it to hide the dirty underneath. He’s probably a real freak, wants to suck Derek off while kneeling on the grimy floor in the men’s room while guys use the urinals around them.

The idea makes him grin, all teeth, every time he catches the guy looking, and cup the fat bulge of his balls. He tells Stiles about it the next time they’re fucking. The scrawny, little shit loves hearing about Derek’s other conquests while they wreck each other-- it's kind of their thing. Derek loves feeling how sloppy and wet Stiles' hole is from other dudes while he's going on about it, feeling their loads squish out around his nuts.

Stiles is licking Derek’s ass while Derek is laid out across the couch, one arm behind his head, watching cartoons and eating a slice of pizza. “There’s some slut in my ancient architecture class that’s just gagging for me. He’s practically waving his tight boy-cunt in my face and just  _aching_ for me to come and take him.” He can feel Stiles smirk against the thick meat of one of his asscheeks, pulling away to take a second to breathe. He rubs his nose in Derek’s hairy crack and chuffs little puffs of air against his sweat and saliva slick skin. 

“You think everyone wants your dirty dick.” He nips where Derek’s ass joins into his thigh and pushes his shoulders up so Derek will spread his thighs more. And this is why Derek keeps him around-- aside from his cocksucker lips, spindly ass fingers, and oral fixation that is. The guy is basically his bitch, but only because that’s how he gets off best. Otherwise he goes tit for tat with Derek, and always with utter glee in his bright eyes.

Stiles was the first guy Derek ever fucked when he got to college and three years later they’re still hitting each other up almost daily. Derek would almost say they were boyfriends or something if they weren’t also both getting it from other dudes and rarely did anything truly, emotionally intimate. Those moments were rare and hidden, both of them more vulnerable than they'd like to show anybody. Stiles was this eager, virginal, nerd that Derek knew he could land and knew would do anything he wanted. He just didn’t expect him to be so good at it, to be so funny, or to have as sharp a bite as he did. 

Stiles never stopped giving him shit, always called him out on his alpha male behaviors even if he loved them, and was the guy that got Derek to figure out he actually loved having his ass played with. Stiles still worshiped his body like he would gladly die choking on Derek’s dick, but unlike all the other guys he slept with, made a distinction with his personality. He treated Derek like any other dude, just one that he wanted between his legs on the reg. 

Derek snorts and tries to shove his face back between his cheeks, but Stiles struggles and they laugh as they wrestle. Derek lets him win, they both know he could manhandle Stiles wherever he wanted him, but it’s more fun with a little give and take. The pale boy takes his turn on top, straddling Derek’s sternum and rubbing his little, plump cock between Derek’s pecs, matting his chest hair with precum. 

“Seriously though, he wants it bad... He just isn’t giving himself what he needs.” Stiles gives him a quizzical little look at that, brows furrowing and lips pouting out as his forearms strain-- veins bulging on them-- from holding him up as he humps at Derek’s chest, moving to rub his dick head against a dark, firm nipple and making Derek gasp. “I-oh fuck!” Derek grips Stiles’ hips tight enough to bruise and slows down their languorous rolls a little so he can think. “I was thinking maybe you could show him the ropes? Let him see that being a cumslut doesn’t mean handing in his precious, fragile man card?” 

Stiles gives a little growl as he’s forced to a stop, sitting back on his haunches and wiping at the sweat coming down from his hairline. He turns his head to watch the Teen Titans blow up some giant vegetables and eat a year’s worth of meat in one sitting, chewing his lips, hands idly playing with Derek’s treasure trail. “You sure he wants it? I haven’t been given a black eye for coming onto a straight dude in years and I’d really like to not break that streak.”

Derek takes a moment to actually think, clear the haze of their musky rut from his head to try and examine his interactions with the mystery kid out of the heat of the moment. He rubs his hands up and down Stiles’ fuzzy thighs, gropes his ass a little, turns his head to watch a few seconds of tv too. When he’s sure, he pinches at Stiles’ stomach to get his attention and then nods, slow and serious. 

Stiles blows a long breath out of his nose and then nods back, stroking Derek’s torso before slowing starting up his rhythm again. “Can I cum in your beard?” 

Derek grins at him, gripping his ass to haul him higher on his body, nosing at that fat, short dicklet he loves. “When have I ever said no to that?” 

* * *

 

Stiles waits for him outside of the lecture hall next week. Derek makes sure he packs up his things and leaves directly in front of the mystery kid. He’s sure the guy will follow him through the doors and out the building just to ogle the jiggle of his ass as he walks. He’s wearing shorts from his high school basketball team, so they’re way too short on his thighs and the elastic has long since worn out, letting them sag to show off a quarter inch of his hairy ass crack. An easy lure. 

Their plan wasn't much of a plan, more like the opening scene to a cheap porno, but the both of them had done more with less, so they figured it would be alright. “Hey there hotstuff!” Stiles quips the second Derek’s in earshot. He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows, doing a little dance in place. Derek can’t help himself from ducking his head to smother a laugh, the little shitstain. Stiles wolfwhistles as he gets closer, licking his lips in a totally comical performance. “Sexy can I?” 

As soon as Derek gets near enough, he uses one hand to shove at Stiles' chest, forcing him into a wall and walking straight into his space. He pushes his knee into Stiles’ groin and rubs his chub against his thigh as he goes in for a wet and messy kiss. “You’re such a professional,” he murmurs against Stiles’ lips, deadpan, but fond. 

Stiles’ fingers find their way to his waistband and start teasing his asscrack right out in the open. “You get what you pay for and I seem to remember covering the last three rounds of takeout even though  _you’re_ the one with a trustfund.” Stiles runs his nose along Derek’s jaw as he moves his face past Derek’s to look for the mystery kid. “Pretty boy? Lots of freckles and fashion that only works in Italy?” 

Derek nips at Stiles’ shoulder a little mean and hauls him up by the backs of his knees, spreading his thighs to make even more of a point. “Just get to work before we scare him off.” Stiles does little besides hum in reply and wrap one arm around Derek’s head, holding him close and playing with his hair. 

Derek knows his moves, has seen him steal away some conquests in a club before. They’d bet who could suck more cock in the stall in one night and Derek had thought he was a ringer. Turns out those pink lips he loves so much aren’t just a turn on for him. Stiles has beautiful eyes, a wicked mouth, and so much heat in his very presence, he can draw guys in like a siren. 

Derek’s up-front, brutish, lewd. He’s the musky fuckin’ minotaur with his balls out that is prized for his obvious obscenity. Stiles is the seductress kind. He’s the one that slinks in unseen and then captivates you, holds your gaze like a snake and draws you deeper, deeper. He’s got real talent when he puts his mind to it, and has the confidence to commit. It took him a while to find and keep that, but now he’s a real minx. 

“Got you a present, baby.” Derek shudders at the low, interested timbre of his voice, lets Stiles feel how his dick instantly fills up and grinds it against his ass. “You gonna just watch or are you gonna contribute?” He calls out past Derek’s ear, but it’s not loud. Mystery kid must have come close. 

Derek lets Stiles slide back down the wall and turns in his grip to look, eyes hooded and expression unreadable. The guy looks a little like a deer caught in the headlights. He’s got some vpl going that can only be possible with a chub, his breathing is thin and his eyes are blown wide. Derek turns his body the rest of the way to show off the full tent in his shorts and he keeps eye contact as he lowers his shorts a little to scratch at his thick bush. “We don’t let people just watch.”

Either the guy catches the ‘but’ in that sentence, or he walks away. Doesn’t matter which, Derek will finally be able to tell if he was right or if the guy’s just got a staring problem. They wait in silence for a moment, Stiles coming round to get Derek’s hands out of his pants where he’d started scratching his nuts, but groping his still hard cock as he pulls them up a little. “You got a place?” 

They both look up from where they’d been squabbling over his clothes and then at each other, starting to crack grins. Derek jerks his head over his shoulder and then turns, starting to walk towards his apartment. Stiles throws an arm over his shoulder and bumps their hips. Mystery kid jogs to catch up, and then after a bit of hesitance, slings his arm around Derek’s waist. 

* * *

Derek drops his keys in the bowl by the door and strips off his tanktop on the way to the couch. Stiles follows suit, but walks himself backwards as he does. “You got a name? I need something to moan when I’m close to creaming.” The guy’s face turns a blotchy red and he gives Stiles a disgusted look, but starts taking off his designer army jacket and the black tee with mesh cutouts that was underneath. 

“Jackson.” His eyes flit over to Derek and stick as Derek flings off his shorts, nothing else underneath. He juggles his fat, low hanging balls a little before throwing himself onto the couch and spreading his thighs. He props his long, strong feet up on the arm and wiggles his toes as he sinks into the cushions, sighing. Jackson can smell him from here and it’s ripe but... virile. 

“Good.” Stiles shimmies as he shucks himself out of some skinny jeans and boyshorts that have seen better days. The cotton is worn thin and the crotch is stained from pre. His ass is pale, but covered in little moles and the flesh must be soft instead of muscled because it ripples when he shakes. “Better leave that shy shit at the door, because we don’t have time for it here. Sex is intimate and nasty and that’s the way we like it.” He doesn’t even look at Jackson as he crosses the room, scratching at his taint before dropping to the floor to start stroking his hands over Derek. 

Jackson just watches him for a little bit, fiddling with his button fly and taking his time with the navy blue briefs he’d worn today-- an expensive pair with black piping and the ass cut out. Neither of them are waxed like he is-- chest or ass-- and their pubes aren’t even trimmed. Jackson’s mouth goes a little dry as he watches Stiles lift one of Derek’s arms to lick and nibble at his hairy, damp armpit and come away with a shiny mouth, one that Derek doesn’t hesitate to kiss and suck. 

He doesn’t think either of them have showered today and as Stiles is sliding down Derek's body to start licking at his ass, Jackson can see that his hole is still sticky with an earlier load that was never cleaned. They both groan, low and long, and he’s not sure how much longer he can pretend like he’s not getting wet himself just from the observations. “Well?” 

His head snaps up as he realizes he got a little lost in the sloppy play of Stiles’ tongue in Derek’s furry ass, and now they’re both looking at him. Derek had been the one to speak. “Well what?” He snaps, because being a bitch is his automatic response to everything. 

“We don’t let people just watch.” Jackson’s hands shake a little as he’s reminded of the terms, and he shifts his weight from foot to foot as they stare at each other. He's better than this. He's spent his whole life assuring himself and making sure to rein in all these disgusting, animal interests he's been drawn to since puberty. He should want smooth, petite girls that smell like strawberries and don't ask for anything outside of missionary. That's the kind of person befitting himself, but---.

Maybe this could be a one time thing. That's what college is for, right? His father had said so himself when he was putting Jackson on the plane. He had just these four years to get the wild out, to finish being a boy, and then the world expected him to get his shit together, put on a suit and tie, and contribute. He's sure his dad hadn't specifically meant to experiment with his sexuality and boys that looked like they might answer bukkake personal ads online, but no one had to know but him.

Goosebumps pepper all over his body as he shucks his briefs, waiting for them to comment on the bright firecrotch that's only lessened a little by how short he'd trimmed his bush. But they both just wait, idly touching each other as they watch him make his slow way over. His cock starts to fill under their gaze, his nostrils flaring as he takes in their combined musk-- the heady, lustful strength of it. It's pure sex and Jackson's sure he's never been more turned on in his life.

He'd never had actual sex he enjoyed as much as masturbating, it made getting off seem like more of a chore than it had to be, but this was different. He collapsed onto his knees the second that he made it to the couch, succumbing to his need with his eyes fluttering shut and his breath stuttering out. He hears a throaty chuckle from who he assumes is Derek, because directly after a large toe is brushing down the ride of his nose and it makes Jackson shake.

His feet smell. He's one of those bros that only wears rubber flip flops and plays shit like ultimate frisbee out on the quad. It should make him gag, but he just pushes his nose deeper, between the dexterous play of them, pushing his lips to the rough ball of his foot. Derek makes and interested hum and lets his toes curl and uncurl against Jackson's face, making it louder when the other boy reaches out to grab him by the ankle.

Jackson's fingers play with the bristly hair that covers the tops of Derek's feet, pushes his thumbs into the arch, opens his mouth to rub his lips in wet patterns along the ball, finally let himself breathe deep. “That's it, take him in. Fucking obscene, isn't he?” It's Stiles this time, running one of his strong, long hands up and down Jackson's back, slapping playfully at the long, but flat ass he has. “Like a goddamn animal, am I right? Swear I wouldn't be surprised to walk in on him shitting in the woods one day.”

Jackson shudders as Stiles licks along the shell of his ear, nips at his lobe, tongues inside. Jackson scrapes his teeth against Derek's heel, pulls himself closer to rub Derek's foot between his pecs, rub his face up Derek's bristly calf. He registers Derek laughing at Stiles' barb, but only in the back of his head, much to enraptured in sensation to catch much of it consciously.

“That's how he likes it. He's a fuckin' bull and he knows that's why you want him. He's not the guy you take home to your parents. He's the one you let fuck you in a bus station, feed you your own cum. He's the nasty that makes your balls ache it was so good, even if you'd never tell your friends where you were when you're with him.” Jackson shakes as he swirls his tongue around one of Derek's middle toes, pressing on the underside of the knuckles, smoothing along the pad, and then sealing his lips around the entirety to suck. He opens wider to fit in two, and drools around them, tongue trapped between, Derek starting to wriggle from the attention.

Stiles strokes his fingers up and down the inside of Jackson's thighs, cups his high and tight sac, grips the base of his upturned dick. He humps his own shorter, but much fatter cock against Jackson's hip, leaving sticky trails in its wake and starts nosing around his shoulder to get under his arm. He buries his face in there and starts licking, even though all he'll find is deodorant and a sparse bit of hair.

“Keep going the way you are and he'll drench you for it-- his way of saying thanks. You'll smell it on your skin for days, have to wash three times just to get it out of your hair. So thick and hot and ripe. I swear he was made for breeding. You want that, don't you? Get painted with it, feel it run all down your skin, find every little crease of cranny.” Jackson can't keep himself from whining at the prospect and he feels Stiles smirk on his skin. “Then get to work.”

The boy growls a little as he suddenly grabs Jackson by the hair. He yanks as he pulls them both to their feet, not caring one bit for the way Jackson hisses and squirms under his rough hand. Jackson finally opens his eyes again and sees Derek grinning at them both, utterly wolfish as he lays splayed out like a goddamn king. He's playing with his sloppy foreskin, fingers shiny with the pre he was leaking, and as they come around the side of the couch to face him, he stands.

Stiles shoves Jackson to his knees in front of Derek, making him scrape them against the textured hardwood underneath, but not relinquishing his hold on his dyed blonde locks. “He'll jack his cock. You worship his nuts. He likes them milked, makes him cum longer.” Without waiting for an affirmation of understanding, he shoves Jackson forward, smothering his face in Derek's hairy, rank groin.

Jackson braces himself against Derek's thighs and moans into the crease of them, starting to lick and suck, feeling the heat of Derek's hangers against his cheeks. Stiles trails his hands along Derek's belly and then back as he traipses around behind him, and then falls to his knees with an eager grace. Clearly he's the alpha slut here, Derek's perfect pet. He isn't forced into anything, but is well trained and knows his place.

Derek twists his back to look at him as Stiles' plays with his fat ass for a little before spreading the cheeks to reveal his tacky, dusky hole. They grin at each other, eyes shining, and then Stiles spits right onto Derek's asshole and dives in. Derek throws his head back to moan, and then places a hand on top of each of his boys', pulling them both deeper.

Stiles makes lewd, hungry sounds as he eats Derek out like his life depends on it, while Jackson snuffles lick a fucking pug. Occasionally their lips and tongues meet over Derek's fuzzy taint, but mostly they keep to their sides. Jackson does his best not to gag around the absurd mouthful of just one of Derek's swollen testicles. He can't fit them both in his mouth at the same time, so he suckles at their shape, mashes his face into the loose sac, grabs them with his hands to yoke like he's milking an udder.

Derek moans for them, loud and unashamed, laughs when Stiles bites his cheek and murmurs that he better not rip one on him again, bares his teeth at Jackson with glee when his eyes widen in terror at the idea. “Don't worry, that was just to get him back for the time he couldn't hold it after fucking me. Bastard pissed inside me without even putting down a towel and with a cock that small it's not like he could keep me plugged till we made it to the bathtub. Ruined my sheets.”

Stiles snickers and gives Derek a loud smack, starting to jack himself off as he nips at his rim and motorboats his thick meat. “Whatever, you liked it until you had to throw them out. I maintain holding me by the back of the neck and gassing me for a full minute was an overreaction.” Derek just shrugs and squeezes his cock as they both seem to ignore Jackson gaping at them, wondering if this is how things usually go.

“I'd feel worse about it if you hadn't just pouted at me and then gotten off anyway.” Stiles' whole face and chest turns a blotchy, ugly shade of red and he wriggles, looking embarrassed. Jackson didn't think he could possibly be capable of that. He mumbles something incoherently, eyes downcast, and Derek raises an eyebrow with a shit eating grin. “What was that, babe?”

“I couldn't help it. You waited till I was already on the edge of cumming. There was no way to stop.” Derek gives him a look that oozes, _okay, sure_ and then turns back to Jackson, winking. He rubs his toes along the inside of Jackson's thighs and juggles his balls a little with the tops of them before pressing the arch squarely into his crotch, a mix of stepping on his junk and actually massaging it. “Now you've got my wires all crossed. 'M hard as nails all night with your fucking unending sleep-farts.” Stiles grumbles in the most petulant tone possible, even as he moves back into Derek's ass.

If this is what intimacy looks like, Jackson never wants to be with someone this long. At least, that's what he tells himself, but just this taste of their life has opened up a gaping maw inside of himself and now that he's let it show, he's not sure he can every bury it down deep again. He wants the dirty sex. He wants the familiar, comfortable banter. He even wants to be close enough to someone he can find the most vulgar parts of them endearing.

A boy that would still fuck him and hang out with him, tease him over the fact that he refuses to deal with his lactose issue-- that wouldn't care about him sniffing socks to get off, that would let him be a total asshole to everyone, would help him bleach his hair and wax his balls and buy him an anal douche late at night because Jackson just doesn't feel comfortable being fucked without one?

The floodgates fly open and every piece of himself he repressed comes slamming full force. He can't deal with it all right now, doesn't want to, so instead he focuses on what's in front of him, which is Derek's precum running down his shaft and pooling in the folds of his balls. Jackson attacks them with a new vigor, clenching his thighs to keep Derek's foot in place as he starts to wildly hump it, grinding his wet dick against the arch, pushing the head between Derek's toes.

Derek chuckles at him, but not meanly. He's pleased, proud even, and his hands are affectionate as they run through Jackson's hair. “There you go. Finally got it now, didn't you?” Jackson just replies by groping his nuts just hard enough to hurt a little while diving underneath to start making out with Stiles' over Derek's taint.

They lick and nibble and pant and moan at each other, squirming to fit their shoulder so they can kiss. Stiles is scissoring Derek's hole open with practiced ease. Jackson is milking his balls. And he's jacking his own dick at a pace that makes squelching noises ring out in the open space. Derek's hips start jerking, contorting his body as his muscles tighten, getting ready to shoot. He jerks forward to fuck in the air, then curls back, practically sitting on Stiles as he tenses up.

Stiles' breath is coming so fast and thin he's on the edge of hyperventilating and it seems he can decide whether he wants to kiss Jackson or lick around his fingers so he switches between both, doing neither very well but making a saliva-coated mess of each. Jackson cums between Derek's toes and down the hairy top of his foot, unable to make himself wait. He's already getting soft by the time he's pelted with a shower of thick, musky cum, spattering in his hair, on his shoulders and chest.

Stiles' spunk is all over his fingers and his tongue twists as the tries to lick it from around his knuckles. He stands on shaky, coltish legs as he gathers most of it up, then lets it trickle down his lips as Derek kisses him. Their hands tangle as they play with Derek's cock together, squeezing out the drops that are left in his foreskin and letting them drip onto Jackson. “Gonna share?” Stiles asks, voice husky when he stays on his knees.

Honestly, he's more than a little shellshocked, feeling waves of all different kinds of emotions washing over him again and again and again. He takes Derek's offered hands to help him up and whimpers as the two of them start licking all over him, gathering up Derek's mess and fighting over the bits they reach at the same time. Derek finally pulls him in for a salty, sticky kiss, beard burning against Jackson's jaw as he consumes him.

He lets himself be gathered up by the other boys, fawned over a little as they guide him to the bathroom, stand around the pot in a semi-circle and bump thighs as they piss together. Afterwards, Stiles makes them all sandwiches, Derek loans him a pair of sweats, and they crumple together in front of the tv, taking turns picking youtube videos to veg out over.

Jackson has other classes today, plans with people he pretends are his friends, a date with a girl that doesn't like him. But Derek hasn't told him to shower and get out. Stiles is playing with his hair as Derek feeds him popcorn, and in a little while they'll all be able to get it up again. He tangles his legs with Stiles', makes a noise for Derek to feed him a couple pieces too and licks his fingers. They each put a hand on one of his asscheeks.

Being bottom bitch on the totem pole doesn't seem all that bad.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I would apologize for how far this ends up going, but I’m just too tired to front anymore. I’m gross guys, surprise! Don’t want your requested porn super nasty? Gonna have to be specific about it now because I’m terrible at holding myself back. :P For everyone else joining me on the train to the dumpster-- welcome aboard, I hope you enjoy your ride. I’m happy to be the conduit for you to enjoy your dirty smut. 
> 
> Feel free to come and prompt me your own kinky ideas, or just chat with me [here](http://www.drivenbyadevilshunger.tumblr.com).


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